


Of Contrasts

by Tattered



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Wedding Night, euphoria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:44:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6607774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tattered/pseuds/Tattered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Skye is the red of dawn, and Grant is the blue of night. [SSF Week 3]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Contrasts

**Author's Note:**

> I am a day late! I apologize to the mods. I've been swamped with lectures and written exams to finish these days. Anyway, we're back on track. I tried something different with this one, and I hope you enjoy it.

Lying on the bed wearing one of the most intricately designed gowns Grant has seen in his life, Skye paints an image of an angel.

But the idea of her purity washes off his mind as soon as she begins sliding the drapes that hid her physique from his sight.

Against the covers, Skye is the red of the early evenings, the queen that finally rests on the horizon after a day of hard work. Her image renders Grant speechless with the soft warmth she exudes with every gaze and every touch. She blends with the gray of the oceans that would have held onto its secrets, if not for tender coaxing, teasing life underneath to show the world a glimpse. Whether in her reign or rest, she lets the world bask in her beauty, and the world becomes beautiful with her around. Skye’s red simply bursts into life, and with her everything comes to life.

Similarly, she has appealed to the heart of her people to take him despite his flaws. She has guided them to open their eyes and search of an ounce of hope left within him. Grant cannot fault Lincoln for being so drawn to her in his absence. Skye, Daisy, whoever they identify her as – this woman shouldn’t have chosen him with his brokenness and instability. Still she did, and how blessed he has been.

In her nakedness, he engulfs her like the deep blue of the night sky just as her nimble hands reach for his tie. She undoes his clothes, reminiscent of the hundreds of times she has done it in the past. She dwells on his scars routinely, but this time she spends a few more moments tracing the former breaks made on his chest where bone pierced through skin and sinew. He wonders if she is remembering the man who broke him – the same man who moved heaven and earth to bring him back to her.

Skye lifts her gaze to his somber eyes, whispering with a smile, “Who would have thought we’d be here?”

“We would always have ended up here, one way or another,” Grant answers confidently.

Skye matches the smug look in his face, “Really?”

Grant nods, sitting beside the naked Skye and grasping her waist, bringing her in his lap.

“You’ve always been quite confident, eh?”

“I have every reason to be confident about this,” Grant answers, motioning between their intertwined bodies.

Skye slides her hand over Grant’s shoulder, teasingly tracing patterns at the valley of his shoulders. “Show me.”

Grant lifts her legs to the bed, letting it wrap on his torso. His fingers reach for the warmth of her lips under the tuft of hair on the apex of her thighs, and his satisfaction on how her lips wept for him reflects on his face. Skye bites her lip, but the brief quake that shook her body with his thrust was undeniable. Grant’s laughter resonates within the walls of the room.

“That’s it?” Skye whines, feigning disappointment even as her fingers dig of Grant’s skin deeper.

“I’ve just started, and you’re already losing it,” Grant answers back, his other hand palming one of Skye’s breasts. He feels the satiny texture of her skin, and the impressive tautness of her nipples. Shifting his hand to her back, he suddenly drops his head to her chest and takes her breast to his mouth. Skye gasps, hands reaching for Grant’s hair with a pull.

He suckles on her breast with an undeniable, testing for flavors and sensations that he would not have experienced in any other woman. Simultaneously, his fingers work with her lips, an act he has long mastered. Skye squirms in his lap, but anchors herself against his body deeper as her own lips planted its seed across the plateau of his shoulders and slopes at the junctions of his neck and arms. As her focus heightens, she releases one of her hands and lets it drop on Grant’s inner thighs, reaching for his manhood that patiently waited for her attention.

“God, woman. You’re too competitive,” Grant complains half-heartedly, instead digging deeper into Skye.

“I’m getting impatient, alright,” she bites his ear, eliciting a groan from Grant. “Stop dilly-dallying,” she slaps his arm.

“You’re not my boss, Skye, and I’m doing my job just fine.”

“That’s for me to say, honey.”

In a blink of an eye, Grant’s manhood was welcomed by the folds on Skye’s lips.

Skye gasps, her forehead leaning against Grant’s. She feels the smirk forming against his lips as he closes the distance between them. He maneuvers her body as she slowly slides against his, counting every thrust wordlessly. Skye burns within, her belly preparing a caged beast to ensnare Grant’s cock. Incidentally, her fingertips brush Grant’s mastoid.

His sudden cringe reverberated in his body. Skye takes the moment to lunge at him in triumph. He falls back into the bed, body straining against Skye’s added weight.

“We agreed no tickling!” Grant scoffs, ridding his head off Skye’s hand.

Skye leans forward, resting her chest against Grant’s. She flattens her body, allowing Grant’s cock to bury further on her womb. Their moans come in sync, a deep baritone and a steady alto.

“It’s our wedding night. Should we actually care about the rules?” Skye goads while playing with Grant’s jaw. “Do you really want your first child to think of how prudish his or her father is?”

“I’ll show you prudish,” Grant growls, flipping their bodies.

Skye controls herself from squirming as Grant presses her against the sheets, their bodies never parting. They move, and their bodies crash and meet in previously uncrossed lines. They moan, and every sound sends tingles down their spines. Skye’s feet curls and snakes on Grant’s waist, and skin touches skin unashamedly. Grant discovers Skye once more with every sense. He tastes salt and sugar on her hidden crevices. He feels for her plains and her valleys, climbs her mountains expertly, and sinks into the hidden ocean that has long been waiting for him. He touches her with fire on his fingertips, melting winters across the landscape of her body. She washes him in springs that never run dry, and he moves confidently with and against the current, swimming to the shores of her upper body. He listens to every breath, every moan, every groan, every cry of pain and discomfort and satisfaction. He listens as she whispers his name like a prayer, growls his name in frustration, and yells his name in command. He listens to the fluttering bird that wants to escape her chest badly, and rejoices in the fact that only he can make him want to escape herself. He smells flowers and freedom and exhilaration with every breath. He looks at her, the same way he had always done from the moment they met, and sees how bright his life had been just as stars burst from beneath their eyelids as they climaxed.

Grant plops himself over Skye’s body. “How did I do?”

Skye poses momentarily, as if thinking deeply, “I’m giving you an A+.”

Grant nods understandably, “Well, I aimed to please.”

Skye laughs, smacking her lips against his. “Thank heavens I married an overachiever.”

Grant lifts himself, eyebrows arching with challenge. “Do you want to see how much I can achieve in one night?”

Skye can only smirk back, “Bring it on, tiger.”


End file.
